


To Get What You Want

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conditioned Reactions, Drama, Implied Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Child Sexual Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: Torveld knows that it's not unconditional. He knows Laurent doesn't reallywanthim. He can accept that.





	To Get What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in an AU where Damen and the other slaves never ended up being sent to Vere. It's written for two tumblr rairpair prompts to write Laurent/Torveld.
> 
> Warning: Contains implicit references to past Laurent/Regent CSA, the nature of which may upset some readers. Also has that kind of dub-con-ish vibe that comes with one person being drunk, but things don't go very far. There was almost smut, but no, I failed at that again.

Back in Patras people speculated that everything said in Vere had five different intended meanings other than the obvious interpretation of the words, and that people never just spoke plainly when they could couch their thoughts in oblique insults and falsehoods. From what Torveld had seen since his arrival in Arles, that wasn't much of an exaggeration.

Torveld was aware that he'd been chosen to be sent as Ambassador to Vere more for his skill with their language and for his rank – and because he'd spent so long away from the capital defending the border from Vaskian invaders that there was no longer any other available position befitting his birth left to be offered to him back in Bazal – than because he had any specific proficiency with double-dealings.

Yet he was also no fool. He was able to derive at least some of the implications from what he saw and heard, and was at least aware that there were things he was missing. And he certainly could figure out that when Prince Laurent expressed interest in him, it wasn't because Laurent found a man twice his age physically irresistible, or even because he found Torveld's conversation particularly intellectually stimulating. Especially considering that the talk of the court at Arles had made it clear that Laurent wasn't prone to embarking on romantic pursuits. Torveld had been surprised to hear that, not just because of how Laurent looked so unbelievably desirable that he must have had hundreds if not thousands of offers, but also because Torveld wouldn't have expected that to be an open topic of discussion at all. Torveld couldn't imagine noblemen back in Bazal speaking of his eldest nephew, Patras's heir apparent, the way they spoke here did of Vere's Crown Prince. He couldn't picture that sort of thing being directed his way either, even though Torveld was several times removed from a claim on the Patran throne and therefore had less power at court than Laurent really _should_ have (but somehow didn't seem to all the same, unless Torveld really was missing something very important under the surface). 

So although Torveld might not be able to decipher the full reality behind everything that was said and done in the halls of Arles, he _did_ know that when Laurent allowed Torveld's advances without objection, and even started _returning_ them after the hunt yesterday that had nearly ended in tragedy when Laurent's horse had faltered under the strain, the truth was obviously that he wanted Torveld's on his side for some reason and was willing to do whatever it took to secure his support. He was perhaps hoping to cultivate Torveld to help Vere defend against Akielos in the near future, in the event that Akielos decided that a twenty-one-year-old King was a weakness and an opportunity the same way they'd years ago thought to move on Vere when the Queen had passed, and the alliance with Kempt had gone with her.

Torveld didn't care. If Laurent was hoping to use him that way, Torveld would accept it. He'd take what he could get. And if Akielos really did target him, then Torveld couldn't imagine not _wanting_ to protect him anyway. 

Torveld couldn't offer Laurent a full alliance with Patras if that was what he was hoping for – that was Torgeir's decision, not Torveld's, even though Torveld could advise his brother on the matter in his role as Ambassador – but Torveld could do whatever _was_ in his power to help Laurent in whatever pursuit he was preparing for. He had his own private force that wasn't associated with Torgeir, for one thing, and access to finances of his own. Torveld would offer those things, and himself, happily. That was, in fact, the least of what Torveld would guarantee in order to have a chance to press Laurent between the silk sheets in the royal guest apartments he'd been offered for the duration of his stay. The idea that he might have a chance at living out the fantasy after all was overwhelming; Torveld had been picturing it for days on end and thinking that he was doing so entirely in vain, even though Laurent hadn't turned him down directly. But now that Laurent seemed more inclined, Torveld would have been tempted to promise Laurent the sun and the moon like a besotted adolescent if that was what it took to make him agree to it.

Torveld obviously wasn't the only one who felt that way. Even as focused as he was on Laurent, Torveld still couldn't have missed how many jealous glares he received when they made their way out of the room together, Laurent leaned heavily against Torveld – a little drunkenly, Torveld acknowledged, but Laurent was not so far gone that he'd been slurring when he'd acquiesced to accompanying Torveld back to his rooms for the night, and hopefully he was also not so badly off that he wouldn't remember what they were about to do once morning came either.

Apart from Laurent plastering himself against Torveld's side and Laurent also looping his hand around Torveld's elbow so that it was easier for Torveld to lead him, they managed to contain themselves until they were inside Torveld's rooms. The Veretians probably wouldn't have cared if they'd instead made a display of themselves out in the hallway for anyone to see, based on what Torveld had seen and heard, but that certainly wasn't the Patran way. He couldn't imagine being comfortable doing that. But once the door was closed, sealing them into privacy, it was a different matter.

Veretian courtiers were so heavily covered in clothing, especially Laurent in particular, that Torveld had seen barely a patch of Laurent's skin but for his face and his hands when he wasn't wearing riding gloves. Even with the high collar of Laurent's jackets, though, Torveld had managed to catch just a few quick glimpses of the stretch of Laurent's throat. Because it was so rare, each one of those times had somehow felt as illicit as catching a flash of a nipple through the loose sleeve an oversized tunic on a slave who had not yet experienced his First Night. Torveld had had an entire vivid dream of exploring Laurent's throat until he'd left visible marks all over it as a result, and now he was finally being afforded the opportunity to actually touch Laurent there he found he couldn't wait any longer.

His fingers were clumsy on the unfamiliar fine laces at the top of Laurent's jacket, but Torveld still managed to loosen them enough to part the fabric and grant himself access. The skin there was pale, like the fresh-fallen snow Torveld had seen up in the mountains of Vask while he'd been on campaign. And apparently it was just as untouched, Torveld thought unbidden, even though he could still barely imagine how that could be true.

Torveld wanted to change that. He wanted to melt the ice with his own body heat.

Torveld stepped in closer, eliminating the space between them. Laurent didn't shy away at all, so Torveld took his chance to press his open mouth to Laurent's throat. Torveld's tongue flicked out in teasing swipes, savouring the salt of the skin there like it was even more exquisite than the fine wine that Laurent had for once joined him in partaking of at dinner. Laurent didn't move for a moment. He eventually, with an almost creaking slowness, tilted his head to the side slightly to give Torveld better access. Torveld used the freedom to trail his mouth upwards slowly, as if searching for the pounding of Laurent's pulse. 

Something about what he was doing made Laurent shiver almost violently and arch his body hard into Torveld, unable to control himself. A crack in that otherwise flawless exterior. Torveld felt smug for a moment to have drawn that reaction out of Laurent. Until, that was, Laurent unexpectedly shrugged away from Torveld, stepping backwards out of his grasp. Then he shifted further so that his face pointed away from both Torveld and the fireplace, his features falling into shadow. Though Torveld thought that he could still make out a pinkness to the edge of the cheek closest to him. 

Laurent's hand drifted up to his neck where Torveld had just been kissing him. Torveld wasn't sure whether he was trying to capture the sensation or erase it.

"Did I do something wrong?" Torveld asked, uncomfortable, when Laurent didn't speak or move again for a long while.

Laurent shook his head slightly. "It's fine." Torveld didn't quite believe him. "It just surprised me."

"Too intense?" Torveld asked, trying not to sound pleased.

"Your beard…" Laurent started, then cut himself off as if he hadn't meant to say it. His hand moved upwards from his neck, rubbing over his face the way Torveld might do himself if he were tired, or frustrated.

Beards were so commonplace as to be almost an expectation in Patras, but the fashion in Vere was for clean-shaven faces, on the whole. He'd seen few men other than the Regent himself sporting facial hair since arriving in Arles. So the concept and feel of it would probably have been strange to Laurent even if he'd had a lot of experience in this sort of thing generally. Torveld had had lovers who found his beard startlingly ticklish before, and also one or two who had found the sensation to be grating and unwelcome against the more delicate parts of their skin. Torveld would hate to think that Laurent was one of the latter and that Torveld had managed to ruin the mood with his attentions because of it. Though the way Laurent had pushed his hips into Torveld, and the obvious hardness Torveld had felt pressing against the crest of Torveld's thigh when he did so, made it seem unlikely that Laurent had really found it to be _that_ much of a turn-off, though.

"No," Laurent said with a strange hesitancy when Torveld sought clarification so that he could avoid doing it again if Laurent hadn't enjoyed it. "It wasn't unpleasant. I… liked it."

And that had surprised him, clearly. If Laurent's experience really was so limited, likely he hadn't yet discovered what he preferred in bed. Was he just embarrassed to learn it now with an audience? Torveld found that endearing, as he did many things about Laurent. He tried to think of a way to say so without Laurent taking it the wrong way. Words failed him.

Apparently they failed Laurent too, for Laurent lapsed back into silence for about half a minute once they'd cleared that up, though. He didn't turn back to look at Torveld, either. If anything, it looked like he'd more or less forgotten Torveld was even there, lost in thought.

"I think I drank too much wine for this," Laurent finally decided. He shifted to look Torveld in the eye. Torveld couldn't help but see that his own eyes looked a little glazed; proof of his claim, if Torveld had needed it. "I hope you won't be too disappointed if I ask to pick this up again another time instead."

Torveld _was_ , in fact, incredibly disappointed. But there wasn't really much he could say to that, other than to accept it. 

Besides, the implied promise of Laurent still letting Torveld take him to bed at some future date was still more than Torveld had thought he could ever expect from Laurent as recently as a day or two ago. Again, he would take what he could get.

"Of course," Torveld said, not without a little reluctance in his tone. "Should I send for a servant to accompany you back to your own rooms?"

Laurent made a strange noise almost like a clipped laugh, but harsher. "That's thoughtful of you," he said, as if the concept of Torveld making sure he was taken care of was in some way humorous. "But no, that won't be necessary. I have guards who'll be waiting for me outside the door."

Of course he did. Torveld hadn't noticed the two of them being shadowed from the banquet, but that was partly because he was just used to it, and that he'd been distracted. Logically Torveld knew that his own men would have followed them and would be somewhere nearby out in the hallway as well. 

"Tomorrow," Laurent said. 

Torveld wasn't sure whether he meant simply that he would see Torveld in the morning at breakfast, or that he intended to make good on his promise tomorrow. He didn't ask, just saying, "Good night, Prince Laurent."

Laurent made a humming noise of acceptance as he disappeared out the door. Torveld was tempted to step outside the room and watch Laurent trail his way down the hallway. At least then he could enjoy the view. But if Laurent had to lean on one of his guards the way he had on Torveld, Torveld imagined that he would be like those envious courtiers from earlier.

Besides, it wasn't like he needed that last glimpse of Laurent's back. Torveld already had enough _stimulating_ memories. 

With more to come soon, he desperately hoped.

Tomorrow Torveld might ask the servants to hide the wine.


End file.
